Mine
by vontramp
Summary: Canon Brittana one-shot based loosely around the lyrics to "Mine," by Taylor Swift, thanks to Ryan Murphy's Twitter leaks.


**AN: After having "Mine" confirmed by Ryan, I couldn't very well help myself. One-shot based loosely around the song's lyrics. Enjoy! :)  
I do not own Glee, Taylor Swift, or rights to either, for the record. I own a laptop that doesn't charge and an overactive imagination.  
**

* * *

"I had dreams," she whispered. "I had dreams, and Kentucky wasn't where I needed to be." She caught the solitary tear streaking her girlfriend's cheek with the tip of her thumb and wiped it on the thigh of her jeans. "I don't want to be so far away from you, but what if you decide New York is where you want to be too? I can work, and I can save up money, and we can be there together next year." She caught the flickering gaze just inches from her face, blue eyes as clear as ever, filled with an intoxicating mixture of expressions - longing, exhaustion, and worry. She chose to focus on the tiny flame she spotted just near the center of those crystal eyes, however - hope.

"What if we can't make it?" The blonde's voice was quivering, and she was far more shaken than Santana had anticipated.

"We can. If anyone can make it, it's us." She took hold of the hands hanging limply by Brittany's sides. "You can work at Purdue, if that's what you want, and I'll find work at a restaurant or bar or something. We can have a shitty little loft apartment, and live off of Ramen noodles and store brand cereal, and be blissfully happy." Her eyes lifted upward, taking in the fluorescent lighting the choir room boasted, and squeezed the blonde's hands gently. "We can take walks in Central Park and fight over what kiosk has the best hot dogs. I'll go to every performance you have, and fall asleep next to you every night. We can do this Britt-Britt. I don't care what anyone else says. I know that we can make it. We're gonna be fine."

* * *

_You were in college working part time waitin' tables_

_Left a small town, never looked back_

"Good evening. My name is Santana, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

She hated waitressing, more than she anticipated. It was harder than she thought it would be to feign interest in the patron's meal choices, and her boss had to hold her back more times than she was willing to admit when a guy tried to hit on her. She was getting better though. After three months on her own in New York, she could feel herself growing up, as hard as she fought against it. Her seething words were calming down, and she very rarely went out, despite invitations from her coworkers, who were mostly undergraduates from NYU. She went to work and went home, occasionally singing at karaoke nights, but refusing more than one or two beers while there.

* * *

_I was a flight risk with a fear of fallin'_

_Wondering why we bother with love if it never lasts_

"Long night at work honey?" Santana's mood instantly brightened when the connection on Skype went through, and she was face-to-face with her girlfriend. She nodded, yawning slightly before focusing back on the blue eyes in front of her. "I'm so proud of you. You know that right?"

"Thanks Britt-Britt," she whispered, a shy smile playing on her lips. "How's school going?"

"Senior class president is a little easier the second time around," she joked, receiving a watered down glare from the brunette on the other end of the laptop. Brittany sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm going to class, and I'm passing. I promise. I'm on track to graduate, and I'm actually singing a little more in Glee."

Santana's heart swelled with pride, and she tucked a bent forefinger underneath her eye to catch the moisture welling up in the corner. Her voice was raspy, sticking in her throat, when she finally replied. "I am so, _so _proud of you, more than you could possibly know."

"You should get to bed. You look exhausted," the blonde finally said quietly, breaking the silence they'd fallen into, simply watching one another. "I love you."

"I love you too Britt." She closed Skype, and slowly shut her laptop, allowing the tears that had built behind her eyelids to fall silently, not realizing that six hundred miles away, her girlfriend was in a similar state, eyes focused on a photograph of the couple sitting on her bedside table.

* * *

_Do you remember, we were sitting there by the water?_

_You put your arm around me for the first time._

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter._

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine._

"I'm scared San." The blonde's long legs were splashing back and forth in the Pierce's pool as she nervously tugged bits of grass from the ground around the edge. "High school is scary."

"Britt-Britt, we're gonna be fine. We're on the Cheerios, and we made friends with that girl Quinn, so we'll be like, the most popular bitches at McKinley." Brittany's mouth fell open in shock, and Santana felt herself withering under the other girl's glare. "The most popular _girls_." She shifted her gaze back to her hands. "Sorry Britt."

The blonde bounced happily, kicking her legs a bit more at having won round twelve, or maybe thirteen, of their unending fight against Santana's foul mouth. She'd won at least half of the rounds that day already, and she was feeling pretty pleased with herself.

"I'm kind of scared too Britt," she whispered. At fourteen years old, Santana Lopez, despite her overbearing confidence, quick wit, and damn near professional way of cutting people to the ground with her insults, was honestly _terrified._

The blonde quickly slipped an arm around her best friend's shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We're gonna be fine, remember? As long as we've got each other, we're gonna be fine."

Neither girl heard the click of the camera behind them, and Mrs. Pierce slipped silently back into the house, a small smile playing on her lips.

* * *

_Flash forward and we're taking on the world together,_

_And there's a drawer of my things at your place._

_You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded,_

_You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes._

Santana flopped on the queen sized bed in the center of the room, taking in the boxes covering every square inch of floor around them. Carrying Brittany's things up three flights of stairs had left her exhausted, and her sore muscles were oddly reminiscent of her Cheerios days. A weary smile crossed her features however, as she watched the blonde carefully fold clothing and place it into the dresser - _their _dresser. Something about seeing her leather jackets and furry vests hanging in the closet next to Brittany's rompers and printed dresses made her heart beat just a little bit faster.

With every photograph that was added to their living room and each frosted breakfast cereal that was added to their grocery list, she felt her chest expand and lighten. They'd beaten the odds. There would be no more Skype dates, or disparaging phone calls on Valentine's Day, when both wanted nothing more than to be with the other. There was significantly less worry about one of them meeting someone else, and the awkward silences on phone calls disappeared with the rush of the taxi when Brittany had appeared at her girlfriend's front door, bags in hand.

Santana propped herself up on one elbow and called the blonde over to her, patting the space on the bed nearest her. "Honey, I've got to get unpacked."

"We have all the time in the world for that," the brunette whispered, gripping Brittany's hand and tugging her down. "We have the rest of our lives." She received a small smile in return for her admittedly cheesy words, but all the cheddar in the world was worth the slight brightening of blue eyes. "Right now, I just want to hold you." Santana pulled the blonde more closely, tucking Brittany's head closely to her chest, and running her fingers through the long, slightly tangled locks.

* * *

_But we got bills to pay,_

_We got nothing figured out,_

_When it was hard to take,_

_Yes, yes, this is what I thought about._

"I don't want to go to work," Santana grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'd rather lay here with you than deal with arrogant, bougie assholes who think they're god's gift to the restaurant industry because they've had 'real' escargot from Paris." Her air quotes pierced the air, and Brittany sighed in frustration.

"If you don't want to go to work, you clearly don't want to eat either - or have a roof over our heads for that matter." She pulled herself from the confines of their bed, reaching over to grab a t-shirt off of the floor. "I'm going to make some coffee, and then I'm going into the studio. I picked up a few extra classes this week to cover the shift you missed Monday."

Despite having matured in the past year, Santana's automatic defense mechanisms kicked in. "I was sick Britt!"

"You were _hungover_," she retorted from the doorway, running her fingers through the top of her hair and huffing out a heavy breath. "Whatever. If you don't want to make this partnership equal, then don't. You don't have to go to work. You're an adult now, and no one is _making _you go, least of all me."

Santana let out a sigh, rubbing at her temples before rolling out of bed as well and grabbing a sweatshirt. She found Brittany angrily stabbing at her generic Lucky Charms, and wasn't surprised when her girlfriend refused to meet her gaze. "You have the dream," she began softly, "and I help build the dream. That's what a partnership is about, right?"

The blonde lifted her eyes slightly, scanning Santana's face for any signs of insincerity. Finding none, she allowed her defenses to fall slightly, and nodded. "Right."

The brunette lifted up on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss to her girlfriend's cheek. "I'm gonna go get ready for work. I'll see you tonight." She dropped back on her heels and started back toward the bedroom before turning in the doorway, much as Brittany had minutes earlier. "I love you Britt-Britt."

She caught the flicker of a weak smile, and an even slighter nod, and knew that they would be okay.

* * *

_Do you remember, we were sitting there, by the water?_

_You put your arm around me for the first time_

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter_

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine._

"Can you believe it's been almost four years already?" Her head was resting atop Brittany's shoulder as their feet flicked back and forth in the McKinley High pool, still in their bathing suits from their performance for Ms. Pillsbury. The blonde nodded absentmindedly, playing with Santana's fingers in her lap and giving special attention to the fourth on her left hand. "Where'd you go Britt?"

"Just thinking," she murmured, resting her head on top of the brunette's, careful not to muss the flower tucked into her hair. "The future always seems so far away." She paused, worrying her lip between her teeth, and determining how to proceed. "But no one ever realizes that we never actually _get _to the future."

"Is this about the time machine again Britt? Because I'm gonna be honest, I still don't get the whole Stephen Hawking thing."

"No." The blonde let out a laugh, but it was hollowed, as though there were something tugging at the confines of her head - something she wouldn't allow to be brought to the surface. "It's just, we never get to the future. What we get to is the future of the past, you know? There's always more future, _another _future, every day." She sighed, shaking her head slightly, Santana's bobbing along with her motions. "With all this proposal talk, it's like everyone is so worried about their future, whichever future it is today, that they want to hold down something from the past indefinitely, so they won't lose it as they move on to the next future."

Santana was quiet, still stunned by these moments of genius she was allowed privy to. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, splashing the water beneath them before speaking. "And what about our future?"

"What will be, will be. I'm not worried about us honey. I don't feel like I need to put a ring on your finger right now to ensure that you'll be mine for _all _of my futures." The brunette seemed satisfied with the answer and nodded against Brittany's shoulder. "But that doesn't mean I don't think about it," she finished quietly. Her words were so soft, she wasn't sure if Santana had heard them over the gentle splashing of their legs in the pool, but when she felt a small smile grow against her exposed skin and the grip on her hand tighten marginally, she let an ease wash over them, and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as well.

* * *

_Do you remember all the city lights on the water?_

_You saw me start to believe for the first time_

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter_

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine._

The sun had begun to set earlier and earlier into the afternoon, and a chill was sweeping through the streets as the two women walked hand in hand through Central Park, pointing out which kiosks had better food, and never agreeing. They'd been meandering up and down the streets since Brittany's matinee performance let out, and finally ended up in the park, a place they'd come to frequent, given the blonde's penchant for feeding the ducks. As they stood, wrapped in one another against the beginning of their third New York winter together, the dancer began to sway gently in the breeze, her girlfriend humming a familiar tune as she followed the blonde's movements.

Santana turned and tucked her arms underneath the material of Brittany's coat, clasping her hands in the small of the woman's back as they started spinning to the quietly murmured rendition of Songbird. It had been a long, hard fight to accept herself, but the brunette held no qualms now as she pressed up and into her girlfriend's chilly lips, feeling them warm against her own mouth. As she settled back onto flat feet, she let out a quiet chuckle, thankful for the chilly wind brushing against her flushed cheeks. She nestled her head in next to Brittany's scarf, appreciating the steady drumming of her heartbeat as they continued to turn in circles, the grass crunching underneath their feet.

"Santana?" She'd barely breathed the word out, but felt the smaller girl nodding against her chest. "Be the rest of my futures." The brunette looked up, cocking her head when she locked gazes with her girlfriend. Brittany reached into a pocket in her coat, pulling out a small, but perfectly cut diamond. "Be the rest of my futures," she murmured, repeating her words. "Marry me."

* * *

_And I remember that fight, two-thirty AM_

_As everything was slipping right out of our hands_

_I ran out crying and you followed me out into the street_

_Braced myself for the "goodbye," _'_cause that's all I've ever known_

_Then you took me by surprise - you said, "I'll never leave you alone."_

"Leave me alone! Fucking hell Brittany." Her words were harsh, punctuated by unhinged rage and a steadily raising volume. "I don't _want _to fucking talk about it. I don't _want _to cry in your fucking arms. I want you to leave me the fuck alone and forget about it."

"No," she stated simply, crossing the small living room and pulling Santana into her arms. The brunette immediately proceeded to beat her fists against her wife's shoulders, pushing her away as much as she could, and struggling even when she felt her fight fading away from within. "I'm not going to _forget about it_, Santana." Her mocking tone only further infuriated the smaller woman, who pushed against Brittany once more, with all of her strength, succeeding in releasing herself from her wife's grip.

"Well _I _am," she said quietly as she slowly backed away. "I don't want to be constantly reminded of what a grand mal _fuck up_ I am. I get enough of that from my father, every time I call home. _Mija, you should have stayed in Kentucky. Es una lastima mi bebe. You could have had everything, but you chose to throw it away on a pipe dream._" Her voice was trembling, and her hands shook at her sides. She looked to be about three words from cracking spectacularly.

"I lost her too," Brittany finally whispered, her voice even. It was one word too many, and she watched as Santana's fight faded from her completely, and silent tears streaked down her cheeks. "She was my baby too. A miscarriage isn't messing up honey," she breathed. The blonde took a hesitant step forward, extending her hand to her wife.

"Just please, leave me alone." She enunciated each word with a choked sob, shutting the door behind her as she took off down the staircase in their apartment building. She collapsed on the stoop, her heaving breaths taking all of her energy. She heard the door shut behind her, and the distinct jangle of keys, and hoped that for once, her nosy neighbors would leave well enough alone. _No dice. _She felt someone sit settle down next to her, and a familiar arm wrapped around her waist, pulling Santana in.

"I'll never leave you alone."

* * *

_You said, "I remember how we felt sitting by the water_

_And every time I look at you, it's like the first time_

_I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter_

_She is the best thing that's ever been mine."_

The rocking chairs squeaked as both women leaned backwards and forwards, watching the events unfold in front of them with small smiles. The sun was setting against the horizon of the lake, bathing everything in warm light as the first traces of fireflies were flitting around, unsuccessfully escaping their grandchildren's attempts at capture.

"Ay dios mio," Santana heard from further down the porch, and shifting a little in her chair, she grasped Brittany's hand, laughing as their eldest daughter scolded her children. "Olivia, how many times must I tell you not to trip your little brother?"

"Pero abuela me dice - "

Brittany cut in, unable to hold back her laughter. "Sweetheart, listening to abuela is _always _going to get you into trouble."

"But it's fun," she whined, sticking her bottom lip out. "Abuela's ideas are the _best _Grandma." The blonde chuckled, nodding in agreement before shaking her head at Santana, sending away their granddaughter with a pat on the butt.

"You haven't changed, you know that?" she murmured, watching the woman next to her with disbelieving eyes. "I'm glad you haven't though," she continued, squeezing the brunette's hand gently, "because you were right. We made it, and we're more than fine." Brittany leaned over the arm of the chair, pressing her lips to the brunette's and smiling into the kiss. Even after all these years, every moment still felt like their first.

* * *

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter_

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine._


End file.
